


Planet Rehab

by companionsamcarter



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: Episode: s04e18 The Light, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-25
Updated: 2014-06-25
Packaged: 2018-02-06 03:19:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,469
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1842400
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/companionsamcarter/pseuds/companionsamcarter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set after the events of The Light, when Sam, Jack, Daniel and Loran are stuck on the planet for 3 weeks.  Jack gets a little drunk.  Oneshot. Feel free to write a smuttier sequel.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Planet Rehab

“Bad storm out there,” Daniel commented, setting his armful of wood into the indoor fire pit. In their two weeks in the Goa’uld opium den, or “planet rehab,” as Jack had taken to calling it, they had explored the place thoroughly, and found a kitchen the human slaves must have used when they prepared food for their drugged-out gods. It was a strange mix of advanced and ancient technology, as with most Goa’uld places, and the team had taken to eating meals around the fire pit, despite the presence of something that amounted to a microwave. Teal’c had been through the gate occasionally with supplies and to help Daniel out with translations, but there wasn’t much of interest, and they were all starting to get restless.

“Good thing we’ve got a huge-ass palace,” Jack said resentfully. He’d been in a bad mood for the last couple days, so out of sorts that Sam had checked the levels on the light machine, but they were progressing right on schedule.

“I wonder if there are any other civilizations on this planet,” she said now, hoping to distract the guys from how bored they were.

Daniel looked at her quizzically. “Seeing as the only building in sight is this one, and the Goa’uld came here through the Stargate, I’d say no.”

She shrugged. “It seems perfectly habitable. Condusive to life, even. The Goa’uld’s population of the universe with the Stargates have short-circuited the question of life evolving elsewhere in the universe, but now that we know there are so many other habitable planets, it seems even more possible.”

Jack squinted at her over the mug of coffee-plus-a-shot-of-vodka he’d been drinking. She’d always suspected he’d kept a flask hidden in the depths of his vest, and her suspicion had been confirmed when the SGC told them they were considering these three weeks a leave. “Is this your version of a campfire story, Carter? Trying to convince us there’s some independently evolved bogeyman out there?”

She smiled and blew on her own (non-spiked) coffee. “No, sir, just an idea.”

“Well if it’s a ghost story you want, I’ve got plenty,” Daniel said, pulling up one of the comfortable Goa’uld armchairs to the fire he’d just made—after all, the human hosts couldn’t stand for as long as the snakes liked to stare at the light. “Take your pick—Egyptian, Greek, Roman, Mayan, Chinese—they’ve all got ‘em.”

“And half of them are true,” Jack muttered into his cup, and Sam wasn’t sure if Daniel had heard him.

“So, what’s for dinner?” Sam asked, hoping to avoid both a long-winded myth and irritated banter.

Jack reached for the crate of rations and rifled through them. “We’ve got ramen, chicken soup, pork chops, mac n cheese—” Daniel shuddered. Jack rolled his eyes. “Not that, then.”

“Do we have any more peanut butter and jelly?” Loran asked enthusiastically, coming around the pillar. He was so silent when he moved about the palace that they sometimes forgot he was there. They weren’t leaving for another week, but Loran already had all his possessions packed and sitting by the Gate. He had to keep unpacking and repacking as he needed things or wanted to show the team something, but he didn’t seem to mind.

Jack quickly stuffed a shiny package toward the bottom of the crate. “Doesn’t look like it.” Sam shot him a look but couldn’t blame him; she was getting pretty sick of sandwiches too.

“Hey, you’re a teenager. You should like Ramen, even if you aren’t a typical college kid.” Jack tossed a couple packages out on the floor and waggled his eyebrows at Sam. “You up for an experiment, Major?”

She smiled and looked away, as usual unsure of how to react when he flirted with her. She turned her attention to Loran, who looked worried. “On our planet, kids your age eat a lot of unhealthy foods because they’re cheap to buy.”

“Ramen is not unhealthy!” Jack protested, ripping open the foil to reveal a cup that looked like it had just come from a supermarket shelf instead of an officially-sanctioned rations packet. “It has all sorts of fortifying ingredients like…uh…” He scoured the back of the cup for something with nutritional value. “Peas!” he finished triumphantly.

“Green-colored balls of soy, you mean,” said Daniel, snatching the cup out of Jack’s grasp. He ripped the plastic seal off and poured the noodles into the pot that hung above the fire pit. Jack handed him three more and he dumped them all in, stirring with a collapsible Air Force-issue spoon. Loran took one of the cups and turned it over in his hands.

The teenage love of ramen seemed to transcend galactic distances, and the three SG-1 members regaled Loran with tales of their college days over dinner. They stayed up talking until nearly 23:00 before Daniel started to yawn, and they retired to their separate spacious rooms.

 

Sam’s room had obviously belonged to a regular patron of the light room, as it had a full closet the size of her kitchen at home. Gauzy gowns and silk tunics were strewn everywhere—she’d learned much more in these past several weeks about Goa’uld personal habits and hygiene than she’d ever wanted to. Now, a slinky gold robe caught her eye and she pulled it out, just for a second, and held it up to herself.

“So last dynasty,” came a familiar voice from the doorway, which was a bit of a misnomer because the Goa’uld preferred curtains to doors. Sam spun around, clutching the dress. “I bet you could pull it off, though.”

“Colonel.” She wasn’t embarrassed—goodness knows Jack had seen her in more compromising situations than this one—but it still felt strange, somehow.

“Sorry, I should have knocked,” he said, grabbing the back of his neck, “but the curtains were open, so…”

“No, it’s…fine.” She let that hang in the air, unsure of what he’d come to talk about. Neither was he, it seemed.

“Carter…” His voice was hesitant, almost pained, and to get away from it she turned and put the gold fabric back in the closet. Finally he continued. “These past few weeks have been…”

“Weird?” she finished, turning around. She pointed toward a chair; he left the doorway and sat down—leaving the curtain open, of course—while she took the wide couch she slept on.

“Well, yeah, that,” he said as she sat down across from him. “But…a nice kind of weird. A couple of years ago I never would have thought that rehabbing with two doctorate nerds and an alien teenager would be my ideal vacation. I’m usually more partial to the fishing-and-drinking-beer variety. But…spending so much time with you, without nearly losing our asses every ten minutes, well…it’s been great. And I sorta wish we didn’t have to go back. To Earth, and the air force, and regulations.”

Sam had the distinct impression that “you” didn’t refer to Daniel and Loran as well. “Me too, sir,” she said quietly. “But why are you telling me this?”

He looked up at her suddenly, as if just realizing what the conversation was about. “Uh…I don’t really know. Too much vodka in that coffee, I guess.” He stood up to leave, and she stood too, almost unintentionally taking a couple steps toward him. She could smell him now, a mixture of the Air Force detergent they’d been washing their clothes with and gunpowder, even though he hadn’t fired a weapon in weeks. He took another step too, until they were only a foot apart, their voices still echoing in the vast chamber.

“You know, we’re technically on leave. Personal business,” he murmured.

“Your point?” she asked, enjoying his mild drunkenness.

“We’re not on duty.” He leaned closer to her. “So I can kind of do…this.”

In spite of herself, she raised her face to his, and closed her eyes as she felt the brush of his lips. She was sure he was going to grab her and kiss her, maybe by the shoulders Captain Kirk style, but instead he pulled back. She opened her eyes.

“Definitely the vodka,” he muttered, and executed an about-face. As he marched toward the exit, Sam attempted to save his conscience by saying, “you’re still going through withdrawal, sir. Maybe the radiation from the machine reacts badly with alcohol.”

He turned in the doorway and smirked at her, the pain in his eyes only barely veiled by the alcohol. “I haven’t needed the machine for days, Carter. You are my drug of choice.” He left the room, pausing only to yank the curtain shut behind him. She listened to the sound of his boots on the painted stone floor until the echoes had faded away entirely.


End file.
